Marissa's Journal (Totally NOT a diary)
by Lmrange35
Summary: When hunting, keeping a journal is helpful for organizing thoughts and well, just passing the time. However when said hunter is a 15 year-old newly independent hunter, the information inside is much more interesting. Enjoy, this is my first fanfic ever, so please tell me about everything I messed up. Don't worry I can take it, I promise.
1. Chapter 1

**So here's my first shot in the dark at writing. Like anything. This is terrifying. Not really sure how this author's note thing is supposed to work so I'll just get on with the story... Oh and there might be slight, ok alot of, "big girl" language so... I guess the saying goes, excuse my French?**

What do you even write in a freakin "hunter's journal?" I mean, I'm pretty sure it's just a fancy way of saying diary. Well here goes nothing.

I guess I should tell you about the spirit hunt I did yesterday. See if you're reading this I'm assuming you're either a hunter or a creep. If you're a creep, you're about to be really confused. Most hunters, as you probably know, are maybe 25-30 years old, based on how lucky they get. Well I'm 15. For those who don't know what a hunter is, you lucky bastard, we hunt shit. Not squirrels or deer, but scary ass stuff like spirits, demons, wendigos, and other assorted SOBs. These are just the most commonly known monsters that get put down by most hunters. There are other things, monsters, creeping around in the shadows that some hunters, like yourself, will probably never even see. If that doesn't give you chills then nothing will.

My ADHD is being a bitch again. Back to the hunt. The hunt overall went as well as to be expected. I mean, I'm not dying or dead, so that's something. I've only been hunting on my own now for a little over a year. In that time most of my jobs have been similar to this one, just a simple, run of the mill, spirit. I guess this is where I explain spirits, I mean that's what the whole damn book is for right, storing information?

 **Spirits:** In simple terms, the souls of dead people stuck on Earth for hunters to have to deal with. According to reliable sources, well sort of I guess, spirits are stuck on Earth because they couldn't move on after they died. The longer they are stuck here, the angrier they get. This is when they can become what are known as vengeful spirits. That's a whole other lesson. Sometimes you can see them, they can manifest themselves, other times you can't. When you can see them, you can usally tell what they are based on the fact they look very, well, dead. Dead and really creepy. Beyond just the scare factor, they are extremely dangerous. Just because they are common doesn't mean they are easily killed. That's like saying that because there is a lot of crime in the world means that stopping said crime is easy. See the problem. Getting thrown across whatever room, field or graveyard the hunt is located at, has become common practice at this point when dealing with pissed off spirits. I don't know how many concussions it takes to kill ya but I have to be getting close. Besides just throwing you, spirits can throw whatever they damn well please wherever the hell they want, when ever they feel like it, such as a particularly heavy piece of broken tombstone for example. They do this in order to stop you from killing them. Oh yeah maybe explaining how to kill them would be helpful. Usually salting and burning the bones works great to put these sons of bitches down. Of course I found out the hard way, this is not always true. Some spirits attach themselves to an object or something left behind. This becomes a bitch when trying to figure out what exactly is holding the spirit here. It sucks.

This brings me back to yesterday. How the hell was I supposed to know that the spirit of Allen Gart was attached to a freakin necklace. Apparently it was passed down through the Gart family and when Allen bit the dust he decided to keep it. Like what the hell. By the time I had even found out his name, three people were dead and cops were crawling around everywhere. I didn't have time to search for a freakin necklace. To make it worse, the family had sold it to a family friend, who promptly died as a result, which was then sold to victim number two, which was then, guess what, sold to victim number three. It would have kept going if I finally hadn't come across it while conveniently scanning for EMF. The thing lit up like a Christmas tree. I may be an honors and advanced placement student, but I'm not a freakin mind reader! Up until yesterday, I didn't even know spirits could do that. When I found the necklace, I called up one my brother's old resources, Bobby Singer, to ask why the hell the necklace had EMF and why the son of a bitch didn't die the first time. He promptly told me I was an idjit, whatever the hell that means, and gave a whole speech about disappearing after my brother died. He never even answered the question until I threatened to hang up and take care of it myself. I know he was probably worried when I dropped off radar, but doesn't he understand that time is extremely valuable when hunting. People were dying. The rest of the hunt went pretty smooth. I wasn't thrown across the freakin graveyard when trying to burn the necklace so that was good. Besides the decently painful gash on my head from a flying piece of tombstone, I'm in one piece.

I should probably sleep now considering it officially been 48 hours since I was last in dream land. I usually don't sleep, well, if any, during jobs. I guess its a habit. Till next time I'm feeling like a freaking pre-teen little girl. I mean seriously this has to count as a freakin diary.

 **So there you go. Does it suck, does it rock? Please tell me, I'm begging. I have no beta or grammar skills so I know there has to be stuff I missed. I know you're lying if don't review, and Mr. Fizzles can tell when your lying so...**


	2. Chapter 2

**So this next chapter is purely created out of my lack of sleep. Not sure if I'm writing fanfic or legit a diary in some parts of this. This really has no real plot except near the end so... Sorry. 3 A.M. Writing probably isn't healthy. oh well. On to the story...**

Insomnia sucks. Like what in the living hell is this? When your job requires you to stay awake and alert for DAYS at a time, I don't think it's too much to ask for some sleep afterwards. Someone upstairs is laughing hysterically at me right now. I'm sitting in a car at 3 A.M. writing in a freakin diary as is is coming a freakin monsoon outside. This is my life.

The fact I'm currently living out of my 2001 Ford Mustang isn't even the worst part. I mean sure, the convertible top is leaking into the back of the car and I can feel the wind through the sucky window seals, but its better than nothing. Plus, you get what you pay for. It only took me 6 months to gather and rightfully earn (okay maybe steal, same difference) enough money to buy this cheap beauty off the desperate dealer. $2000 only buys you so much.

Most hunters can go into a bar and hustle money from unsuspecting drunks, but 15 year-olds can't. Trust me I tried. I also have tried to bribe the motel owners into giving me a room but apparently that breaks some kind of law or something. I've been living out of this car for a little over a year, and it hasn't failed me yet. I must look 16 because I've not been pulled over for driving under aged.

Only one more month and that won't be a problem anymore. At the same time the older I get the harder it will be to scam, I mean kindly ask, random people for money. Usually I make up some BS about my parents being sick and needing food money or something stupid like that. That will only work for so much longer. That might be a good thing in a sense though. I can't even count the amount of times people have given me money then turned around and called Child Services, those stupid bastards. I know, I know, they are just doing their job, but seriously, what part of," STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" do they not comprehend? Maybe I should get a real job. That probably won't work anyways though. I don't really stay in one place long enough to keep a job, besides who hires homeless 15 year-olds anyway.

On a less depressing note I think I've found another case one state over. Surprisingly it was Bobby that gave it to me. I was obviously suspicious at first because all that old man has wanted me to do for a year now is to stop hunting. But being the curious person I am, I can't pass up a good hunt. The only down side is Bobby is also sending two other hunters on the same case. It's like he thinks I need a freaking babysitter or something. If only he knew I've become a much better hunter than the 7 year-old little girl he met when he used to do cases with my brother. I guess now I can prove him wrong with this next hunt.

I wonder who the new hunter duo is that I will be forced to hunt with. He mentioned that they were brothers and that I could trust them, but I don't know. Trusting people has never really ended very well for me thus far. I think I'll stick with trusting myself and hope those two idiots don't get us all killed.

 **That was a whole lot of filler for the next chapter. Finally, maybe some actual Supernatural characters for once. Just stick with me, I promise it will be worth it. ( well for me at least) As I said before, review, review, review. I can take criticism like a champ, so don't be shy. Oh yeah and Mr. Fizzles is watching you...**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you, than you, thank you for the review Geetika! I was going to wait to finish writing this till later this week but that review inspired me to finish it today. So here it is, Sam and Dean are finally here. Also, the house that is mentioned here actually exists and is far creepier in person, just saying. Hope you enjoy..**

I finally made it to the city of Kingsport, Tennessee. Its bigger than most cities I hunt in, but it's no New York. I mean it still kind of feels small but in a country way. There are farms, but there's also like two Wallmarts. You can always measure a town's size in how many Wallmarts there are. Little towns that have like 10 people living in them can be catagorized as a 0 wallmart town. Now if there are like a couple thousand people and probably a couple of stores here and there it could possibly be a 1 wallmart town. That's the kind of cities that I usually hunt in. This city, while bigger, feels older if you know what I mean. Maybe I'm looking at this too deeply, I should probably get back to the hunt. The two hunters that Bobby sent still have gotten here yet, which gives me some time to research.

The hunt is at the Rotherwood Mannor on the Houlston River. Apparently, people have been seeing a man in "old" clothing and a howling black dog around the house. It could be a spirit of someone who died there or maybe the ghost of a past owner. It does look as if it has been recently renovated, maybe they pissed something off when the changed the wallpaper or something. The part that is tripping me up is the dog. I've always assumed dogs don't have souls, so that means they can't be spirits. I mean it's never come up on a hunt or anything. Maybe I'll ask the hunters when they get here. I'll have to phrase it so they don't think I'm an idiot.

The house itself looks kind of creepy, but it doesn't have the signature "haunted" look. You know, the broken windows, the overgrown yard, the rotting wood siding. In fact, it kind of looks new. The yard has been mowed and there are flowers everywhere, it even has a wreath on the door. Oh well, never judge a haunting by the lawn work I guess.

And here I am, waiting on people I don't even need to do this hunt. Where are they? As soon as my "babysitters" get here, I should probably go get the house's history from the local library I saw on the way here. Or maybe I should just ditch them and go anyways, I mean it's not like I need their help. I'm still pissed that Bobby doesn't think I can handle a stupid haunting by myself. Does he think I'm stupid or weak or what?

If if either of those hunter's even think about benching me I swear I'll shoot them. Speak of the devil, they finally decided to show up. Damn that's a nice car. Oh crap, I should probably put this away before they start making assumptions.

Did he really just do that? I swear if I didn't think his brother would shoot me I would stab him. Ok, let me start over. So after those two _finally_ decided to grace me with their presence, I finally learned their names. The older one's name is Dean. He's a dick. An annoying, arrogant, reckless dick who has an unhealthy relationship, yes I said relationship, with his car. I mean if I had to pick any car fall in love with a 67' Chevy Impala would definitely make the list, but still. It's just creepy. As for his appearance, if he wasn't twice my age, I would date him. He has that playboy look that says he's looking for trouble you know. Anyways, he's still a dick.

His younger brother, who I have nicknamed The Giant due to his enormous height, is named Sam. Sam is quieter than his brother, which isn't saying much, but obviously he still knows what is going on. For example he's the one that made Dean shut up long enough to start discussing the hunt.

That leads me to why I want to shoot them both, with a Wincheter shotgun just for irony. Once Sam brought up what they had found out on the drive there, how he got wifi in their car I still don't know, I suggested that we go talk to the owners while we were there, then head back to where ever they are staying to do some more research. Once we found out what we were dealing with, we could then come back later that night and kill the son of a bitch. This would have been a great plan if Dean wouldn't have gone and pissed me off. He had the nerve to ask if I had a bedtime that I needed to be back by and then told me that they were going to check out the owners and the house while I went to the motel they were staying at to research. The dumbass benched me! When Sam gave me a sympathetic look it just pissed me off more.

Thats where I am now. Researching. Again. Like a freaking, well, benched hunter. I know researching is the most important part of hunting. If you don't know what your fighting, it doesn't matter what weapons or training you have, you're dead. And I never had really despised researching, not really. When I was little, my brother would always let me do the research because it made me feel like I was actually helping him hunt the monsters. Good thing too. At least now I'm pretty good at it.

This is time however, I'm just pissed off. They are treating me just like Bobby did. Like I'm helpless. I'm not helpless. I'm not. I guess I should get back to researching. I only have a couple of more hours until they are supposed to call for info so they can go hunt the SOB. I should probably sneak out and help them. It would show them I'm not some helpless teenager! That I can hunt with the big guys just as well as they can! Because I'm not helpless.

 **So that's where I'm ending that chapter. I don't really like this one as much so I might change some things. So tell me what you think, review, review, review. That the stuff that keeps me writing. And don't forget to critique also. I'm far from perfect but I want to fix stuff so... On another note, it seems like I'm Dean bashing but I'm not. I just think that Dean probably wouldn't want a teenager hunting with them and would try and stop her from doing so. I love Dean and eventually I think Marissa will too ?, just a hint. Till next time..**


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